


bring about such an abominable effect in you

by colormemotional



Series: nonbinary alex [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dysphoria, Gender Dysphoria, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid!Alex, Light Angst, Other, Queer Characters of Color, Restaurants, Skirts, alex in platform heels bc, honestly, i quoted voltaire in the title am i cool yet, lotsa talk about skirts, me staying Very Very Far Away from most of the ham fandom, talking about feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 06:34:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12835380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colormemotional/pseuds/colormemotional
Summary: “It would look good with the heels. Definitely,” John encourages, but Alex flinches away from the long fabric and continues to slide on a pair of cuffed jeans instead.“Too cold today,” they say as the button the pants,”too cold today, anyways.”





	bring about such an abominable effect in you

**Author's Note:**

> actually shoot me y'all. I've got cramps & dysphoria from hell rn so i wrote this. 
> 
> the dysphoria Alex feels towards skirts and the way they explain it is not meant to sound rude or ignorant. i personally don't think of skirts as 'girly' clothing or that any clothing aligns with a certain gender. to them, wearing skirts and dresses became something which they associated with being mislabeled and a bad time in their life. if you really want to talk to me about the subject, comment. 
> 
> the title of this is from a line in Candide by Voltaire. Full sentence is: "How could that fine cause bring about such an abominable effect in you?"  
> enjoy the fic!

They’ve been looking at their skirts a lot. John sees them shift with their arms crossed over their chest, back against the closet door with their shoulders ridgid. Watching the skirts. Watching them do nothing. Alex owns a bunch of skirts, all kinds, from a phase they went through during college. John’s seen them wear one of them once or twice, but Alex doesn’t like skirts much most of the time. They like cargo shorts and jeans that cover their stomach, usually, but right now Alex is staring at the skirts. 

Alex never told him what the phase was all about, but every time they bring up college they always skip anything other than classes and that gets John worried. He’s always somehow on edge, not always from Alex. But they add to it. 

One morning John wakes up and Alex is standing next to the big closet, half dressed, feeling the seam of their floral maxi skirt. They’ve slipped on that pair of red underwear that feels like soft cotton and a green tank top, platform heels ready to be worn next to the wall. John wants to say something. He wants to ask about journalism student Alex, wearing that maxi-skirt then never wanting to wear it again. 

“It would look good with the heels. Definitely,” John encourages, but Alex flinches away from the long fabric and continues to slide on a pair of cuffed jeans instead. 

“Too cold today,” they say as the button the pants,”too cold today, anyways.”

 

-

 

“What do you think?” Alex walks into the bedroom from the bathroom wearing a pair of tight, black dress pants and a flowy dress shirt that they’ve tucked in. The sleeves are buttoned up to the elbows, but the top two main buttons of the shirt are undone. Their hair is down, and they’ve decided on no makeup tonight. John applauds. 

“Sexy.  _ You  _ like it?” Alex shifts their hips, loses their confidence in the look. John drops the tie he was attempting to wear and moves over to where they’re standing. “Hey, babydoll, what’s up?” Alex mumbles something indistinct and walks back into the bathroom, retrieving a black, mid-thigh, flounce skirt. John runs his fingers over the thin fabric. It’s soft and a little stretchy. He thinks it would look nice on Alex. 

“You wanna wear this?” His significant other nods. “What’s the deal, then?” Alex runs a hand through their hair. They’re being unusually quiet tonight. John takes the hand that’s not holding the skirt from them and rubs at their knuckles. They’ve got pianist hands. Writer hands. 

“We don’t gotta go to that stuck up place, you know. Just thought a nice restaurant would be a change for once.” Alex looks up at him and bites at their bottom lip, a nervous habit. 

“It’s not that. It’s just- ugh. Hard to talk about. Stupid dysphoria stuff.” 

“Your ‘dysphoria stuff’ ain’t stupid, and it’s never been stupid. Talk to me.” He doesn’t want to point out that he’s noticed how bothered Alex has been about skirts lately. They’ve always been the kind of person to tell only when they think it’s right, or they’ve already mulled it over in their own thoughts too many times. Alex drops the skirt onto their bed and chews tentatively at their bottom lip. 

“It’s not easy to understand myself sometimes. Which is ironic, really, ‘cause I’m usually a quick learner. I came out in the middle of senior year, when I turned eighteen. Once left for university, I started wearing more feminine clothing and one of my first friends thought I was a transgender woman,” Alex looks like they’re about to start pacing, but they sit down on the bed instead. John sits next to them, silent. He’s never heard this story before. Alex crosses their legs and continues, “I got nervous. I wanted so fucking bad to be accepted into a community that I’d always wanted to be in, that I let it happen. And for awhile, I thought it was what I wanted.” They’re staring at the closet again, open wide from both of their adventures to find nice formal clothes. John’s watching them. Their mind is somewhere else. Not the closet this time. Alex’s dark, deep eyes are seeing something stuck in their memory from school, something John knows he might never know. 

“We both know tons of girls don’t wear skirts or dresses or anything like that, but. It just happened. I thought, lost, that if I wore more girly shit I’d feel better about the label I let others force onto me. I felt so confused all of the time. I hated it.” 

John knows what that feels like. He’s tried to date enough girls in his lifetime, lied to enough people hoping he’d eventually accept it if he said it enough.  _ I’m straight, I’m straight, I’m straight. _

“Now, I know what I am and I feel great about it. But it’s frustrating ‘cause sometimes I wanna wear a skirt, you know? It just freaks me out and I second guess myself every time. That’s why I don’t appreciate being called transgender, I guess. “ At the end of their story, Alex looks tired and John can’t blame them.Talking about your feelings is exhausting. He takes Alex’s hand again and turns it over. He rubs at the palms, soft and lined like and uneven grid. 

“I think you should wear the skirt. Someone calls you something you don’t like and I’ll punch them.” They snort loudly. It’s not much, but the frown is gone from their face. John thinks that’s good enough, in the end.   
“After I punch them first. We’ll punch them as a couple.” 

“Romantic,” their grins are face-splitting. 

 

-

 

“We had a reservation for, um, nine-thirty?” John blinks at the large, antique-looking clock behind the waitress. Nine-forty-three. Oops. 

“We’re packed. You’d have to reschedule. Alex raises their eyebrows at her, and she raises hers back. John watches both of them do some kind of death match stare-down. The restaurant is  _ not  _ packed, and he sees at least two tables open just from the front. When he turns back to his partner and the waitress throat punching each other with their eyes, he watches the woman’s face slowly dissolve from confident and passive-aggressive to slightly frightened. She’s probably just gotten K.O.’d by Alex because she flickers her eyes over the reservation list and points two fingers at a table near the middle of the room. 

“Your table’s right over there. I’ll be by with the menus shortly. Nice skirt.” 


End file.
